Missing Pieces
by OnceUponSomeChaos
Summary: Picking up where my fic "Leaving Neverland" ended, we see how one night affects both Emma and Killian upon returning to Storybrooke. When Pan's Curse is imminent, those events force them to make a choice which will irrevocably change their relationship. Some canon divergence. Rated *M* because its predecessor was, though most content will be rated *T*.
1. Prologue

_**Missing Pieces is the sequel to my fic "Leaving Neverland". With the exception of the events occurring in "Leaving Neverland", it follows show canon until Pan's Curse.**_

_Feel free to read it if you want the um, hot steamy details, but the prologue makes it very clear what happened._

_This prologue (which is the longest prologue ever, partially because my lovely beta kept saying "more more") begins shortly after we ended "Leaving Neverland" and follows most of the canon from 3x10 and 3x11 (until just before the curse hits). If the scene isn't mentioned, assume it directly follows canon. A few scenes were re-visted to show how the added (non-canon) events in Leaving Neverland might have had even greater effect on Killian and Emma._

_Some dialogue is not mine and belongs to Once Upon a Time, as we re-visit canon scenes from the show._

_**And then we diverge into an alternate universe where… well, you'll see…**_

* * *

_This will likely be a multi-chapter fic of undetermined length, lasting over the missing year._

* * *

_**Prologue**_

Swan was going to kill him.

Figuratively speaking.

Killian stared at Emma, willing her to look his way across the diner. To give him a sign, any sign that she welcomed his presence and he could approach her.

_Look at me. Let me in._

Not a word.

Not a look.

Nothing since they'd arrived in Storybrooke.

Like he ceased to exist, faded away until only a ghost.

_Please._

Her eyes flicked toward him and for moment—a tiny moment—the hope in his chest grew.

It was over with a blink, her eyes back to her boy.

_Bloody hell._

Her actions were not a surprise, even expected.

He'd believed himself prepared for her to withdraw, to shove him away after allowing him so close.

But that bloody hope. Refusing to go away.

_Her taste on his lips, his tongue. Her body and eyes telling him…_

Whatever alcohol he swilled was not strong enough for what he had to do.

_I'm making the right choice._

_For the boy._

_She and Baelfire have unfinished business._

_She won't let him in._

_Most likely._

_She already allowed me to see inside, to glimpse her heart._

_She will again._

_But she's afraid to trust me._

_I just have to wait._

_Assuming the wait doesn't bloody well kill me._

"I didn't think they served rum at Granny's." Bae—Neal slid into the stool next to him.

Killian steeled himself, knowing what he had to do—his heart screaming as his lips moved. "Don't worry, I'm not here to pursue the Lady Swan."

* * *

"I don't care where you go boys, but you can't stay here. It's closing time." Granny shooed Killian, the dwarves, and a handful of other party goers out the door.

_Bloody hell, what do I do now?_

He couldn't go back to his ship—one step in his cabin and he'd be assaulted by memories of their night together.

The bearded dwarf—Grumpy, was it?—clapped him on the back. "The Rabbit Hole doesn't close until two."

Killian nodded at him. "By all means, mate, lead the way."

He hoped this "rabbit hole" was a tavern of sorts and served rum.

_Perhaps if I'm drunk enough I shall forget the way she wrapped her body—_

_Bloody hell!_

He followed the dwarves down the street, careful to keep his jovial façade in place, welcoming the cold air as it permeated his body.

It matched the chill in his heart, the image of her smiling at Neal all too clear in his mind. Killian cursed his inability to fight for her thanks to his conscience.

_You did the right thing._

_You're in it for the long haul. What are three hours, three days, three months, three years—however long it takes Swan to realize you will not leave her like all the others have—compared to the three hundred years spent seeking revenge?_

_She's worth three thousand._

But it hurt no less, this helplessness, the waiting, the small chance his gamble would fail and he'd be left in pieces, only living for her happiness. It would bring him joy_—_her smile able to light even the darkest part of him—but it would also slowly break him.

_Better than revenge, mate._

_Is it?_

The warmth of the tavern rolled over him as they entered, Killian very thankful his guess as to the nature of The Rabbit Hole was accurate.

Playing the patient suitor would require a lot more rum than he currently possessed.

Tomorrow, he would torture himself all over again when she met Bae for lunch at Granny's and without alcohol, he might do something very, very stupid.

* * *

_What was he doing here?_

Killian stared at the number three on the door in front of him, his hand raised to knock, a dose of reality hitting him before he engaged in the very stupid action he'd hoped to avoid.

_Damn dwarves, suggesting I come here._

Perhaps the entire night had been a plot devised by them to bring about his demise—because if the prince did not kill him for knocking on his door before dawn, surely Emma or her mother would.

Thank goodness part of his faculties returned in time.

He turned around and sagged against the door, sliding to the ground, unsure of where to go. The Jolly Roger awaited him, true, but he needed time away from her and the reminders she held.

_How exactly did sitting outside Swan's door seem the better course of action?_

_Because the last time I visited Swan's, the prince punched me._

_And twenty-four hours ago my tongue mapped every part of Swan's body. And her lips_—

One of those memories was infinitely more painful to dwell on at the moment, and it was not the one involving harm to his person.

_Bloody hell._

He closed his eyes and leaned his back against the door, certain a brilliant idea would arrive at any moment.

* * *

Killian fell backwards, his quick reflexes barely saving his head from hitting the unforgiving wooden floor. "Bloody hell!"

"Hook? What the heck are you doing here?" The prince stood over him, a perplexed expression painted on his face as Killian fought to clear the cobwebs of sleep from his mind.

It took Killian a moment to remember where he was.

_Dwarves. Drinking rum. Lots of rum. Swan's door._

_Bloody hell._

He attempted to stand. "Perhaps after all that time spent together aboard the Jolly Roger, I just cannot start my day without a gazing upon your princely visage." He fought to get the words out, realizing he had achieved something he'd not done in a very, very long time: a hangover.

_Bloody dwarves._

_It's not their fault. You're the one trying to forget her._

David rolled his eyes and grabbed Killian's arm, helping him to his feet. "I'm certain that's it." His eyes scanned Killian. "You look like hell."

Killian ran his fingers through his hair. "You certainly know how to woo a person, mate."

David leaned in. "You don't smell so good, either. You might want to take a shower."

"Why, Dave, are you trying to get me out of my clothing? What would your lovely wife say?"

_I need to leave before Emma sees me._

_I need to stay. I need to see her._

_Bloody hell!_

"I don't think it's Snow's opinion you care about, is it?" Concern flickered in David's eyes and Killian sensed his mask slipping.

_Leave, before you reveal something better left buried._

"I'd best be on my way, so I may cease to offend your delicate royal senses." He winked at David and turned away.

"Hook?"

Killian paused in the hallway, but didn't turn around. "Aye?"

"If it's meant to be, you'll find each other. No matter what. You just need to have a little faith."

Killian resumed walking, the prince's words ringing in his head.

* * *

Emma's super power clanged in her mind, over and over, its echo refusing to go away.

Something was off with Henry.

And no one believed her. They waived off her concerns, refusing to believe her gut feeling.

But Emma knew. She _knew_.

She glanced at her phone for the hundredth time, waiting for the call from either Henry or Regina as her fingers grew numb in the cold.

She eyed the nearby docks, instinctively searching for the familiar silhouette of Hook before she stopped herself

_I came here to be alone.._

_Liar. You came here precisely because you might see Hook._

She sighed, checking her phone again.

She didn't want to think about why she sought out the pirate instead of Neal—who was Henry's father and should know of her concerns.

_Because Neal never believed in your super power._

_I'm not thinking about this now._

_And Hook does._

_Shut up._

_Hook believes in you, even when you don't believe in yourself._

_Now is not the time for this._

_Neal never understood you._

_I have other things to deal with right now. Like my son._

_It's pretty obvious who you trust._

_I'm the Savior. I don't have time to trust anyone._

_Says the woman who let Captain Hook taste every part of her body two nights ago._

"Dammit, shut up!" Her voice echoed over the water and she looked at the docks again, simultaneously hoping and dreading her words reached Hook.

_You miss him._

"I don't."

Great, now she was talking to herself.

And lying while doing so.

Because she did miss him, far more than she'd expected.

She missed his smile.

The way her body caught fire from a simple glance.

And his touch.

Her dreams last night reminded her how she craved his skin against hers.

And she hated him for it.

Because she was the Savior—she didn't have the time or the luxury to be weakened by a relationship.

Her life was being the Savior.

_So why am I still on this beach?_

She heard the sound of footsteps and her heart beat faster, suddenly afraid to look and see if it was Hook.

"I thought Granny's was that way?"

_It wasn't him._

Emma sighed and turned to look at David, happy to see him but dreading the likely reason for his arrival. "Did Neal send you?" She buried the twinge of disappointment — why hadn't Hook sought her out?—and refused to consider all that it meant.

* * *

Killian had to know.

Would she forgive Baelfire?

Or did he still have a shot?

He cursed under his breath, pausing his pacing outside the back entrance to the diner. He pulled the flask from his pocket—thankfully the tavern had finally opened and he'd convinced the bartender to allow him to refill his bottle. As the liquid slid down his throat he had the same conversation with himself he'd had all morning.

_To what purpose are you here?_

_You gave Bae your word you would back off._

_You cannot fight for her no matter how you wish it._

_But perhaps if she sees me, she'll remember Neverland. Our night together. _

_You mean when she clearly stated she wanted to use your body to erase her nightmares, but it meant nothing deeper and you agreed to her terms?_

_Aye. That._

_And you couldn't handle it._

_I handled her quite well, actually._

_But it backfired, didn't it?_

_Her walls are a force to be reckoned with. Tall. Thick. Seemingly impenetrable. But there are cracks one can sneak through if willing to look for them._

_And if Bae uses those same cracks, only is allowed to stay because she loves him?_

_Then I need to know that is the case._

Killian entered the back hallway, eyeing the rum bottle as the internal conversation continued, knowing his refill would not last long at this rate.

_Why? What chance do you, a pirate, have against her first love?_

_I have never abandoned her or broken her heart._

_You're a fool._

_Perhaps. But she would not push me away if she had nothing to fear from my presence._

_Or she no longer has use for you now that she's back in Storybrooke._

_She'd not be so callous, not after a lifetime of others using her._

_You're so certain she cares for you?_

_I'd bet my life on it._

_And if she cares for Bae more?_

_Then I hope both are happy together._

_Liar._

He stumbled into someone, and it took a moment before he realized it was Tink.

Her eyes travelled over him. "Are you ok?"

_No. _"Fine, love." Tink gave a quick nod, taking his words at face value and turned away.

An idea formed.

He hurried around her, placing his hook on her shoulder to stop her. "The question is…. are you?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

He plastered a smile on his face. "I know Storybrooke can be a disorienting place if you aren't used to it. Perhaps a drink to settle you in?"

So he wouldn't be alone when Emma met with Bae.

Tink glared at him. "We both know you want more than a drink. You want me to help take your mind off Emma."

_As if that was possible._

Tink would never let him live down the night he tried to get her drunk—desperate to feel something after a century, give or take, of being trapped on Neverland—and lured her into his cabin only to find out even fallen fairies cannot get drunk.

No woman liked to hear she was second choice, however, and even though his intent was not to repeat the Neverland seduction—even if Tink suddenly changed her mind, he only desired Emma—he couldn't bring himself to correct her.

"Emma, who's Emma? I only see you."

_Liar_.

Tink rolled her eyes at him. "I may have lost my wings but I haven't lost my dignity. That's never gonna hap…."

The screams brought lucidity to Killian's body—somehow erasing hours of rum drinking in an instant—and fear raced through him.

_Swan._

They raced outside and he was stunned to find Emma only just arriving with her father.

_Why wasn't she with Baelfire?_

_Bloody hell, what did that mean?_

Then her stare, her words, indignant with jealousy.

_Jealousy over… Tinker Bell?_

He said he'd not pursue Emma, but he was a pirate—he would not let the rare demonstration of her feelings for him escape without comment.

"Perhaps," he smirked, hoping she failed to detect the desperation behind his actions.

At least he was no longer a ghost.

* * *

Killian stood with the group—still stunned over the Crocodile's sacrifice—and listened as the Queen explained the only way to stop Pan's curse and the steep price of doing so.

_Villains don't get happy endings, remember?_

"You will take him, because you're the Savior. You were created to break the curse. And once again, you can escape it." Regina faced Emma, the queen empty of sarcasm, pain evident on her features.

_No!_

Killian couldn't lose Emma.

Not that she was his… yet.

But she'd renewed his hope again with her outburst of jealousy over Tinker Bell.

_I cannot lose her, _he thought again_._

Regina's words circled in Killian's head as an idea formed—a desperate one—but not one without merit.

_Perhaps not everyone will have to leave her._

_Perhaps I will not…_

Emma shook her head. "I don't want to. We'll both go back with everyone."

Killian waited while the others convinced the Savior of what she had to do.

To leave them. All of them. For the sake of the boy.

He saw the agony fill her—not wanting to lose the family she'd found.

He ached to go to her, to hold her, to whisper that everything would work itself out.

_Not yet._

He watched Emma walk away—retrieving the small yellow vessel required to leave Storybrooke—knowing this would be his only chance to ask Regina.

Not wanting to raise anyone's hopes, he closed the distance between them and kept his words quiet. "Are you quite certain that only the Savior can escape this curse?"

She tossed him a sympathetic look—the lack of biting reply proof Regina was not at all herself at the moment. "It will take everyone, Hook. Including you."

"Aye, if I remain here. But what if I don't?"

She furrowed her brow at him. "What do you mean?"

"Will the curse be contained by the borders of this town, or will it travel the world and grab anyone not from this land?"

Understanding lit her eyes. "You think you can cross the town line and escape it?"

"Escaping curses is something I do, darling. If the curse stays within the town, then those of us who aren't bound by your curse should be able to leave. Yes?"

_And Emma would not be alone._

"I don't know, Hook. If the curse allows you to leave while Pan's curse is in motion, it could work in theory, but—"

"Sorry to interrupt, Regina, but it's time. Can you transport us to the town line?" Snow White tossed a curious glance his way.

"Very well." Regina waved her hands—he always hated this part, wondering if he would materialize within a tree or other solid object—and moments later found himself and the others on a road surrounded by woods, the Storybrooke sign and painted red line marking the boundary of the town. The others began to say goodbye to Henry as Emma drove toward them and Regina leaned toward Killian. "There's a huge flaw with your plan, so I wouldn't try it."

"What plan? What's going on?" Snow White's words were loud, catching the attention of the prince and Neal.

Neal looked between them. "There's a plan?"

Killian swallowed, wishing he'd had the chance to discuss this with Bae alone, without Emma's parents listening, but lacked the time to do so. "I was merely trying to discern if it's possible for those of us not trapped by the original curse to leave the town and avoid returning to the Enchanted Forest."

David gave him a surprised look. "You might keep your memories because you escaped the first curse and since it is magic, this one can't cross the town line."

"Precisely, mate." Killian turned his focus to Neal. "You could stay with your family. Your son."

_Emma._

_But she wouldn't be alone._

The group's stunned faces swiveled to look at Regina.

"Would that work?" Neal asked.

Regina rubbed her temples as if a headache pounded between them. "I was just telling Hook. It might work _in theory_. The curse might not allow anyone other than the Savior and Henry to leave but even if you can, there's a bigger problem."

The door of the yellow vessel slammed and Emma got out.

"What problem would that be?" Killian scratched the back of his neck. Nothing was ever simple with magic.

It always had a price.

"When the curse washes over us it will send us all back. Nothing will be left behind. Including your memories. It's just what the curse does." Regina turned to Emma, sympathy in her eyes. "Storybrooke will no longer exist. It won't _ever_ have existed. So these last years will be gone from both your memories. And we go back to just being stories again."

_Think, bloody think, man._

"What will happen to us?" Emma's expression nearly killed him.

_She'll be an orphan all over again, with no one but the boy to love her._

_Lost to her parents, her friends._

_Lost to me._

_Think._

Regina shook her head. "I don't know."

"That doesn't sound much like a happy ending." Tears were in her eyes now.

_Think! _He shuffled his feet, wanting to pace but not wishing to draw attention to himself.

"It's not. But I can give you one."

Killian froze.

_What could Regina have possibly meant by that?_

"You can preserve our memories?" The hope in Emma's eyes was unmistakable.

_She wants to remember them. Needs to remember them._

"No, I can do what I did to everyone else in this town. I can give you new ones." Regina clasped Emma's hands. "You'll have never given him up. You'll have always been together."

"You would do that?" He watched Emma grab onto the silver lining, trying to a mask her grief. "But it won't be real."

"Your past won't, but your future will."

Neal shuffled forward. "Could you give me memories as well? Perhaps—" he closed the space towards Emma and Killian clenched his fist, fighting the urge to stop him, "—we were always together. A family."

_Bloody hell!_

_That's not what she wants! She wants what is real._

_Neal left her._

_He hurt her once. He would likely do so again._

_You don't have a say in this. You can only offer to join them._

Emma stiffened and stepped back. "Neal… I.." She glanced at Henry. "You're Henry's father, you always will be, but I don't want a romantic relationship built on magical fake memories. I'm sorry."

Killian watched Neal deflate at Emma's rejection, trying not to rejoice in her adamant refusal while simultaneously sympathizing with Bae. Neal turned to Regina. "Will I remember any of this? My father's," he paused, swallowing before continuing, "sacrifice?"

Regina shook her head. "Nothing from Storybrooke will remain."

_Only Storybrooke will go missing…._

Killian cleared his throat, all eyes swiveling to him. "If the curse wipes only the memories of Storybrooke, does it stand to reason that events occurring outside of this town shall remain intact?"

Regina shrugged. "It's possible, but since you aren't from this world, it is equally likely you forget your entire life. Gold might know the answer but he's—" she broke off, actually tossing Neal an apologetic look. "If the curse allows anyone other than Emma and Henry to cross the line, I could give them new memories as well."

His gaze found Emma's, hope joining the agony swirling within the green depths.

Neal broke the moment, stepping between them, blocking his view of Emma, and wrapping an arm around Henry. He swallowed. "If I come with you but you have no idea Rumplestiltskin is my father and you believe you kept Henry, would you even allow me into your life?"

"I don't know." Killian couldn't see Emma, only Neal, but he heard the apology and the guilt in what she wouldn't say in front of the boy.

_No. Neal would not be welcomed._

Neal nodded. "Maybe it's best if I go back with the others, then. I don't want to ruin the life you could have here."

"Neal, I—"

"Hey, this isn't goodbye. We'll see each other again." Neal pulled her into a hug and as her head peeked over his shoulder, her eyes found Killian's again.

Pain. So much pain.

She only allowed him seconds to view it, before closing her eyes and shutting him out, breaking away from Neal .

Killian watched the prince embrace Emma and Henry. Her mother kissed Emma's forehead and he saw the tears forming in her eyes.

_No._

He would not let everyone leave her again.

She turned to her vessel, not even bothering to approach him to say good-bye.

_Do I mean that little?_

_Or do I mean too much?_

It didn't matter.

He would not leave her, not if there was a chance he could thwart this curse.

He strode toward her, blocking her path and she stopped, her eyes reluctantly coming up to meet his yet again.

"That's quite the vessel you captain there, Swan." He forced a small smile, hoping she would return it or perhaps roll her eyes.

Anything but shut him out.

Her eyes glistened; a tear escaping as she silently pleaded with him to help her hold herself together, a single sigh hinting how the slightest move might cause her to break.

The urge to cradle her close, fit her body to his, taste her lips and confess the depth of his feelings—in what might be his last chance—threatened to overwhelm him and he fought to contain it. She would not want such a public display now, particularly with her parents and son present.

The thunder of the curse broke through his thoughts and he knew little time remained.

_Ask her._

_And if she says no?_

_At least she'll know not every person was willing to abandon her._

He licked his lips, leaning closer, unable to hide his anxiety over what he was about to offer. "Perhaps you'd allow me to join your crew." He swallowed, the lump in his throat heavy as he waited for her answer.

Her stunned gaze traveled over his face, but he saw the vulnerability and the fear mingling with her shock. "You would do that?"

_Do I let her see the depths of what I'm feeling?_

_Do I keep it hidden so I do not scare her away?_

He settled on a compromise, allowing his eyes to reveal how very much he wished to remain by her side. "Aye."

"With happy memories of another life? Or a fake one of us?"

Hurt crept onto his face. He refused to hide it—not now, not with so little time to convince her. "Neither. What is life without a bit of risk now and again? I'll take my chances that only the memories of this town will be stolen."

"And if you forget your entire life?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Then I won't know any better, now will I?"

"What if you remember?"

He heard what she didn't ask.

_What if you remember Neverland? If you remember the night we spent together?_

His tongue traced his lips again and he leaned closer, until only inches separated them, his voice only loud enough for her to hear. "Then I shall have to save you."

"I won't know you." He saw another tear roll down her face and had to soothe her. He allowed himself to brush it away from her cheek with his thumb, her damp skin warmer than his cold fingers, and she shifted her weight, leaning into the caress.

_Show her._

He tried to pour his heart into his gaze, exposing everything he felt, everything he dreamed, and how desperately he needed her in his life. "I will have to make you remember me, love."

The surprise faded away and a smile, small but no less powerful, formed on her lips. "Good."

Relief filled Killian and he fought to hold his body still when it wished to shake from the power of it. He reached for her hand and after a slight hesitation she laced her fingers with his. "Perhaps we should be on our way then." He nodded at the green cloud, ominous and crackling, wishing to be as far from it as possible, fear of it somehow reaching out and separating him from Emma far too real.

"Captain, if you could come here a moment." It was an order—Regina's tone made that clear—and Killian approached her, Emma by his side, her grip tight on his fingers.

_She's afraid I'll leave her._

He traced her wrist with his thumb, trying to comfort her without making it obvious to the others.

"What is it, your majesty?" He forced any concern from his tone, hiding the anxiety that flared, wondering what else the queen might not have told them.

Regina gave a pointed looked at his hand linked with Emma's. "You do realize Emma's new memories won't include you and she will only remember the Captain Hook from the fairytales of this land?"

Emma's grip tightened on his hand and he nodded at Regina. "I do. You were quite clear on that."

"And you think she's going to let a leather-clad stranger with a hook just hang out with her and our son?"

Emma stepped forward. "Regina, I—"

Regina cut off Emma with a wave of her hand. "Because she won't. Not unless I intervene."

The queen had a point, not that Killian would let such a thing deter him. "I do not wish to have my memories magically altered."

Regina rolled her eyes, though the motion failed to hide a glimmer of respect. "Normally I'd be more than happy to let you stumble and fall flat on your face, but this is about my son." She looked at Emma. "Our son. I want him safe."

Emma tossed her an indignant look. "I can keep Henry safe, Regina. It's a lot easier in the real world without demonic teenagers casting curses."

Regina sighed and shook her head. "Do you think it's a coincidence that you found Neal—someone from the same land you were born—in a world of billions of people? There are likely others who exist and your magic could attract them to you—and our son—like a beacon. And if anyone from the Evil Queen's past should want to seek revenge on the thing I love most..."

Emma stiffened and Killian squeezed her hand in what he hoped was a reassuring manner. "What are you proposing?" Wariness dripped into his words, unsure what Regina had in mind.

"Nothing drastic, I assure you. Since Emma will remember absolutely nothing about us, I feel having someone close to Henry who knows of magic's existence could prove to be vital in case someone less amiable than myself should find the Savior. I am merely offering a reason for Emma to allow you to stay close enough to help, if need be."

He turned to Emma, asking the question with his eyes: Would she accept Regina forcing him into her life?

"What did you have in mind, Regina?" Emma asked, more curious than wary at this point.

"He'll be your roommate, ready to start a new life in a new country while you do the same in a new city. That way if something happens, he is close enough to help protect Henry."

_A roommate?_

_Did that mean sharing the same room—the same bed?—or the same domicile?_

"You want him to live with us?" She tried to pull her hand from his, but he refused to allow her to pull away, holding her firm. Her gaze flickered to his, a flash of fear on her face, before her eyes darted away, her fingers no longer fighting to escape his. "Why not in an apartment next door or something?"

Regina laughed with disbelief. "Perhaps you've watched one too many sitcoms, but people in a large city rarely interact with their neighbors. And even if they did, it could take months of the pirate stalking you before you became comfortable enough around him, assuming you didn't arrest him first." Regina shook her head. "He needs to live with you both, because that is the only way to ensure Henry is protected."

The fear remained in Emma's eyes, though she swallowed and nodded in agreement. "That makes sense. Hook?"

_Only the same place of residence then, or the prince would have interjected by now._

He searched her eyes, trying to find the source of her fear. "I'll not agree to this if it bothers you, Swan." He squeezed her hand, still marveling at how she continued to allow the physical connection.

She licked her lips, her eyes returning the stare. "You don't think it might be a bit, um, awkward?"

Was she worried about… him?

_I shall see her every day. At her most vulnerable._

_I'll have to pretend our lips never touched. That I never swallowed her cries with my mouth, or tasted every inch of her body._

_Bloody hell._

_No wonder she does not wish for me to be this "roommate". _

He gave his most confident smile, afraid if she witnessed his concerns she would change her mind and inform him his presence was no longer required. "I am always in favor of a solution that does not end with my death or incarceration."

Emma raised an eyebrow. "I'm armed. Try any funny business and nothing Regina does will keep you safe."

He heard what she could not say.

_I'm trusting you, pirate._

"I'm always a gentleman, love." He traced his thumb along the inside of her palm, following the faint scar he'd bandaged for her, feeling her shiver in response. "Trust that I have no wish to jeopardize your son's safety or your own, only work to find a way to help you remember what you lost."

He watched the emotion war within her, wondering if he'd erred in his efforts to convince her. The fear still remained in her eyes, but it battled with so many other things, he had difficulty deciphering them.

Until he recognized one he knew could overpower the rest: hope.

God knows he'd learned how the dangerous, seductive, and strong the belief in hope could overrule fear and practicality.

He knew the moment it won as the tension left her body and she gave a quick nod to Regina.

Regina waved her hand and turned to Emma. "It's done. Time to leave and take care of our son." Tears graced the queen's eyes and he turned away, knowing she wouldn't want him to view her weakness and owing her the courtesy for her help.

Henry joined Regina one last time and Killian looked anywhere but at them, trying to allow their last moment privacy.

The prince found his gaze, filling it with both a wish and a warning. _Protect her. Protect them both. But hurt her and you're dead, pirate._

Killian tossed him a small nod, and David answered with one of his own.

_We have an understanding, mate._

Killian's eyes sought out Bae—Neal—next, his heart twisting at the sadness covering the boy he'd loved as his own.

Bae lost his mother, his father, and now his son.

The woman he loves.

_Always the pirate, stealing what doesn't belong to me._

_A man unwilling to fight for what he wants, deserves what he gets._

_Rumplestiltskin drove Milah away. I did not force her._

_I failed to kill the crocodile._

_I did give up on Baelfire too easily, hurt and worried about what Pan might do to my crew because Bae would no longer hide his presence._

_My attraction to Swan began long before I knew Bae fathered her boy._

_I fell for her when I believed him dead._

_I did all I could to ensure they had a chance together._

_Neal chose not to stay_.

_I cannot leave her for Bae's sake, to spare him grief._

_It might destroy her._

_And she is everything._

_So why do I feel no less the pirate for my actions?_

The green cloud was uncomfortably close and Killian rocked on his heels, anxious to flee its reach.

He gripped Emma's hand tight, signaling to her his wish to leave and she returned the squeeze, before slipping her hand from his grasp.

"Come on, kid. We have to go."

Emma walked to her vessel with the boy and Killian followed, using the walk to trade his hook for his fake hand, burying any thoughts of failure.

_If I cannot leave._

_If I do not remember._

_If I fail to win her over in her new life._

_Later._

They climbed into the car, Killian in the front, Henry in the back, and he wondered if his memories would fade gradually, or if pieces of his life would simply vanish. Would he feel the gaps, or would magic glaze them over, the missing time an unnoticed blip in his long life?

Would he recall why he could not reach for her hand? Why he'd have to restrain from touching her? From kissing her?

Or would he assume she knew and push her too soon, undoing Regina's magic and finding himself alone and unable to get close to her again?

The vessel rumbled, roaring to life. Emma quickly moved a lever and they lurched forward.

Killian turned once, glancing behind him at her family—those she wished to remember—and vowed to find a way to reunite them again, hoping he'd recall it once Storybrooke disappeared. The town line remained behind them, so in theory he should.

In theory.

_At least the curse allowed me to leave._

The green smoke turned purple as Regina's magic met Pan's and Killian used this last moment to reach for Emma, his hand crossing his body, needing to touch her before her memories were ripped away and replaced.

Not caring about Henry in the back—he wouldn't remember this either—he twisted, resting his hand on her leg, rubbing it gently with his thumb.

Her eyes flicked to his and he dropped his mask. Every shield and protective measure Killian utilized to prevent Emma from discovering just how far he'd fallen for her was tossed aside.

All of it gone.

"No matter what happens, Swan, my heart belongs to you."

The vessel swerved as she gasped in surprise, casting a frantic glance at Henry in the rearview mirror. "Hook, what are—"

"I love you."

* * *

A moment.

It was all Emma had.

A single moment of her heart picking up speed.

Of warmth filling her body.

Of meeting his eyes and gasping at the emotion bared for her to see.

_I believe him._

Of panic, though whether it stemmed from her fear of trusting Hook or of never remembering she had, she couldn't tell.

Not in a moment.

A blink.

Four racing heart beats.

Then the moment ended—stealing all that came before it—erasing the memories of Storybrooke, her parents, her life, and of the one person who refused to leave her side: Captain Hook.

* * *

_**As always, love to my beta, Arandil.**_

_**ETA: Several reviewers seem to think "four racing heart beats" was a hint referring to Emma being pregnant, but even if she is, it's been three or four days at most since their night in Neverland together and a zygote would likely not even be implanted yet, much less have a heart beat. The "four racing heart beats" is the physical representation of how long that moment was for Emma, as in HER racing heart beat four times and that was all the time she had to process Hook's words before she lost her memories. Hopefully that clears things up. ;-)**_

_**Anyone else curious as to how this will play out?**_

_**Review?**_


	2. Chapter 1: Cursed

**_CHAPTER 1: Cursed_**

_How the bloody hell did I get here?_

Killian glanced around the small confines of the moving contraption, noting Swan at the wheel and her boy in the back, unable to remember boarding this vessel.

His body and mind lacked the telltale signs of too much rum and he rarely imbibed enough to black out—not in years—plus he'd barely touched the stuff after Pan's rather snide comment in Neverland.

Only…where had he traveled after Neverland?

_I have no bloody idea._

Killian filtered through his memories, surprised to find whatever had caused him to forget joining Swan in her carriage, had also ripped other pieces of his past from him.

He remembered most of his life: three hundred years—give or take a few decades and minus some overindulgences in rum—all perfectly intact. Seemingly untouched. Liam, Milah, the Crocodile, Baelfire, the many years spent in Neverland, meeting the woman next to him, feeling drawn to her, her betrayal, and finally allowing her to leave him to return to her son.

Then things grew fuzzy. He could not recall where she traveled, only that he'd needed to follow to track the Crocodile. He and Cora had restored the bean and then…

Holes. Gaps of nothingness...

_Where had Cora gone?_

….until he sailed the seas of another land to enact his revenge, his destination the largest city he'd witnessed in all the realms: Manhattan.

He avenged Milah, _finally_, after three hundred years, only to have Swan knock him unconscious and leave him behind. Again.

Then darkness as he rode in another mode of transport.

And nothing where something should have existed.

Suddenly he stood on the _Jolly Roger _clutching a magic bean in his hand, remembering Bae, mourning the loss of what might have been if he'd not reacted so rash with pain at the words of a boy.

_By stealing the bean I condemned them all to death._

_No!_

He turned his ship back to…somewhere—the name remained elusive—but Swan had been there.

_More darkness filled with questions._

He steered through a portal, landing in Neverland—the place he'd sworn never to revisit—with the prince and Snow White, the Evil Queen, and the Crocodile, who still lived despite Killian's vivid memories of stabbing him in the chest with his poisoned hook.

_None of it made sense_.

And Emma.

She drew him to her, a moth to flame, and when she'd nearly drowned….

_Bloody hell._

He wanted her—had since their journey up the beanstalk—denying it was more than that.

But nearly losing her in Neverland…

When she'd answered his challenge, his dare—the passionate kiss somehow more than a kiss—he suddenly saw a future. With her.

Only Bae—who had grown up and—_bloody hell_—fathered the boy sitting behind him—still lived and Killian had chosen to help rescue him, knowing what uttering his secret might cost him.

_Her_.

They'd rescued her son and left Neverland.

Their night together aboard the Jolly Roger lingered as one of his final memories, the taste of her still burned into his memory, the burgeoning hope the night meant as much to her as it had to him. Come dawn, he'd been at the wheel of the _Jolly Roger_, wondering if she would welcome or ignore him when she awoke.

_She wouldn't even look at him._

One moment he'd been schooling his face, hiding his pain at her rejection, and then…

_What the bloody hell?_

_..._the next instant found himself sitting next to her—somehow knowing she would soon forget him—swearing to make her remember, telling her he loved her.

Had it been minutes ago? Or hours? Even days?

He attempted to recall her reaction to his words and found...nothing.

Telling her screamed of stupidity—something he normally tried to avoid—and desperation—an emotion he sadly knew quite well.

Only, there had been a chance...a chance he'd forget his whole life and he needed her to know someone loved her.

Yet he _had _remembered.

_Had she forgotten? Truly? Or are my memories no longer my own?_

_Was any of this real?_

He parted his lips, prepared to question Swan about it, but a whisper spoke inside his head. A warning.

_She and Henry remember a different life and know nothing of magic or realms outside of this world. They just met you minutes ago and will allow you into their life if you don't screw it up, pirate. Relax and you'll know what to say._

The voice sounded oddly like the Evil Queen.

_What the hell_—

Then he remembered...

_Relief at escaping another curse._

So, neither rum nor simple magic bore responsibility for his stolen memories.

Why did it always have to be a bloody curse?

_Vowing to restore memories of her family._

_Where the hell were her parents anyway?_

_And if the whispered warning was correct, why had Emma's memories been replaced along with her boy's, but his remained mostly intact?_

He sighed, closing his mouth and staring at the scenery passing unbelievably fast outside the window, fighting to get his bearings.

He was still in The Land Without Magic, based on the vessel he rode in, much like the ones spied when he'd found the Crocodile in New York.

_But where was the Jolly Roger? Still at port somewhere in this land? Or had the curse stolen her as well?_

He scratched his ear, desperately trying to decipher the secrets the stolen memories contained.

_What if my memories are not real either?_

_What if none of it happened?_

_Bloody hell._

Who had stolen the missing pieces of his life? Was it the curse? A spell of the Queen's? Had Cora or the Crocodile had a hand it in as well?

And to what purpose?

_How the hell did I plan on helping Emma remember when I don't even know what happened?_

* * *

Emma eyed the man next to her—unease gnawing at her gut—wondering why she'd listened to Terri.

It had begun innocently enough.

"_I found the perfect three bedroom apartment." It had everything Emma had ever wanted in a home, "but I can't afford it."_

Terri's answering smile should've been a warning, though at the time it appeared sympathetic.

"_That's wonderful, because I happen to know someone in a similar predicament. Ever thought about having a roommate?"_

_The lure of having her dream apartment goaded Emma into considering the previously unthinkable: allowing another person into the happy bubble where she and Henry lived. She'd fought to be independent—to make it on her own. Except for the first two years of Henry's life when they'd needed to live with Terri, she'd managed to do a damn good job of it._

_The idea simmered, her friend not-so-subtly touting the benefits of such._

_Emma's arguments weakened—it was within walking distance to Henry's new private school, the kitchen was huge, the building secure, the neighborhood amazing—until the call came that if she didn't sign the lease, someone else would._

_Emma signed the lease._

_She should've known it was too good to be true._

The sound of crinkling leather caught her attention—the man shifted in his seat, repositioning his legs—and Emma couldn't help but notice how the smooth material clung to the well-developed muscles beneath.

_Dammit._

Her friend had lost her mind and somehow forced Emma to lose hers as well.

Terri had waited until after Emma signed the lease to drop the bombshell: her supposedly ideal roommate was a guy.

"_Are you insane?"_

"_Do you trust me, Emma?"_

"_You know I do." Terri was her boss, her friend, and the woman had saved her when Emma had been an unmarried teen delinquent mother. She was the only person Emma trusted._

"_Have I ever steered you wrong before?"_

"_No, but what do you even know about this guy?"_

"_He's a good friend without a family who lost every person he's ever loved. Now he's lost his home too."_

_Something Emma related to far too well._

_Her friend knew just what to say, somehow forging a bond between Emma and a man she'd never met._

_But allowing him into her life, into her home? No way. She couldn't. She wouldn't._

Never say never.

"_Why him?"_

"_Because I think you will be good for each other. Plus, he's great with kids. I know how you hate leaving Henry alone, just as much as he hates being "baby-sat". A roommate isn't a sitter, just someone who happens to be home while you're on stakeout…"_

_Shit._

_Her job was chaotic, and skips didn't just happen during school hours. It would take a while to make friends and find a trustworthy sitter as Henry learned the city._

"_For an insane woman, you make too much sense." Emma sighed. "Do you trust him?"_

_Terri grinned. "I'd trust him with my life. And Henry's. And yours."_

_Emma gulped her wine, requiring fortification for what she was about to do. "Fine."_

She desperately wanted a drink right now, but with a seven hour drive ahead…

_Emma sighed, unable to fight the one person who had stood by her and helped her when she'd needed it the most,_ _and wrapped her arms around her friend. Terri would never put them in harm's way, but Emma couldn't help but add, "If he does anything untoward or puts Henry at risk—"_

"_He won't."_

"—_he's gone."_

Emma glanced at her new roommate again, glad he seemed intent on staring out the window.

He matched Terri's description perfectly except…

Her friend failed to mention how her new roommate oozed sex appeal by simply breathing. Maybe it was the head-to-toe form-fitting black leather showing off the well-sculpted body or the hint of danger surrounding him, but something about him called to her, his pull magnetic.

And she was supposed to live with him?

_He probably believes he is God's gift to women._

_What if he thinks he can bring women back to the apartment?_

_With Henry there? Over my dead body._

_What if he's an asshole?_

_What if he isn't?_

_What if he tries to hit on me?_

_What if he doesn't?_

_God, he's already driving me crazy and he's barely said two words._

They needed ground rules, but she couldn't discuss half of them with her son in the backseat, so she allowed the silence to remain.

It didn't last long, Henry's curiosity finally winning.

"What was your name again?"

"Killian Jones."

"Why are you dressed like that?"

"Why are you dressed like _that_?" he echoed, annoyance lacing his tone.

"Henry, be nice. It's probably all he has left." She shot Killian an apologetic look.

"Aye. Everything I owned was on my ship when I… lost her."

_His home was a ship?_

Killian's eyes found hers but she broke away and focused on the road, unprepared for the pain she witnessed.

_Dammit_.

She'd met the man less than thirty minutes ago and already sensed a kinship with him.

That didn't happen, not to her. Caution ruled her life when it came to the opposite sex—Neal's betrayal a harsh lesson. She didn't let many people in, but when she did, it took time. Months. Years. No man wanted to wait that long.

But there was something familiar about Killian, begging her to trust him.

_Why did I agree to this again?_

"Is that when you lost your hand?" Henry asked.

Emma's eyes traveled to his fake hand—the prosthetic covered in black leather, a glove—propped upon his left leg.

_Had Terri mentioned a missing hand?_

_Does it surprise you?_

_No._

_Then she must have._

"Henry! That is none of our—"

"I don't mind, Swan." He twisted in the seat, directing his answer at Henry. "I lost my hand quite some time ago."

"How?"

"I had a…. disagreement with a crocodile."

Emma's eyes whipped to his, unable to stay out of the conversation. "A crocodile?"

"Aye." The blue eyes dared her to argue with him.

"You sure you aren't making this up?" Skepticism coated Henry's words.

_That's my boy._

"Quite certain, it being my hand and all." Killian's patience wore thin; Emma heard it in his voice.

No one likes to be called a liar and though she hated to admit it, she heard truth in his words, as preposterous as they seemed.

Doubt continued to lace Henry's words. "It's just, your story sounds an awful lot like a rip-off of Captain Hook."

The shock on Killian's face brought giggle to Emma's throat. Henry was right: a ship, a lost hand to a crocodile. His clothing definitely had a modern-age pirate feel.

_Give him a hat with a feather…_

_Or Disney needs to do a remake with a sexy Captain Hook._

"Something funny, Swan?"

_It was the second time he'd called her that yet somehow it felt.. familiar._

_Or he's annoyed with you. _

A neutral expression covered his face now, a mask hiding his true emotions.

_So we have that in common as well._

She couldn't tell if Killian was angry at her laugh or equally amused by it.

Wanting him—no needing him—to know her laugh was not at his expense, she turned her head and gave him a wide grin, something usually reserved for those closest to her. "I'm just trying to imagine you with permed hair and a waxed moustache."

A smile twitched on his lips and she turned back to the road, grateful he understood.

"I take it perms are bad?"

She laughed even as something nagged in the corner of her mind, though it was gone before she could dwell on it. "Unless you still want to live in the 80's, yeah, perms are bad."

She caught a flicker of his confusion out of the corner of her eye before he wiped it away.

_He really is out of his element._

A protective feeling washed over her.

Henry's questioning continued, moving on to more innocuous topics of interest, like food and video games—but each one brought forth more gaping holes in Killian's knowledge, though now he appeared more intrigued by Henry's questions and explanations than upset.

Emma found her eyes constantly veering from the road and onto Killian as he talked. She kept an ear on the conversation, making sure Henry didn't offend him while carefully filing away the tidbits of information gleaned, and noted Henry's declaration that dinner would be New York pizza, because somehow Killian had never tried pizza of any kind.

_It's perfectly normal to keep studying a guy you've just met when trapped in a car with him._

_Especially when he could easily play a starring role in a sex fantasy._

_Not that he will—roommates are off limits. I made that mistake once before._

_But he's certainly easy on the eyes. There is no harm in looking…_

Then she caught him staring at her, once, twice, three times—his blue eyes unreadable—before returning his gaze to the road or her son, hating how each time he stirred a long dormant piece of her to life before she regained control and silenced it.

The unease, formerly put to rest by the banter between her son and Killian, washed over her again and her gut clenched with warning.

Because for the first time since Terri—the first man since Neal—she craved letting someone inside and it terrified her.

* * *

Whatever spell or curse responsible for stealing the missing pieces of Killian's life now wrapped around him, a constant warning, a buzz in his brain. It silenced him whenever he opened his mouth to speak something true, but impossible in her world.

It hit Killian that something he'd done—something he'd chosen to do—had resulted in him remembering what Emma could not.

Because if he'd had a choice—to remember Emma and the wasted years of revenge, or to forget her and their time together but lose the burden of his past...

He'd pick her.

_And Emma?_

She'd choose whatever option was best for her son.

The buzzing quieted with his thoughts, proving to Killian he'd guessed correctly.

Now he faced the consequences of his decision.

Emma needed the truth to trust him. But if he told her the truth, she would never believe him, and he'd lose her.

_Assuming this bloody spell even allowed him to speak of magic and curses._

If he lied and she believed him… The day her memories returned and illuminated his lies, he'd lose her.

_Bloody hell._

He was damned either way.

But if he'd chosen to forget, he could have pursued her without guilt, without lies, believing his world to be true.

Absolved of all.

_We might have found a happy ending._

He took the moment, half-heartedly still answering Henry's rapid-fire questions, to wonder what that life might have been like: to have a new one, slate wiped clean.

_A life together, their pasts erased, their future unburdened by her role as Savior or his promise to reunite her with those lost. Just them and the boy._

_A beautiful life of love… based on lies._

_It wouldn't be real._

_I swore I'd win her heart without trickery._

_I need it to be real._

He let the dream go, trying to figure out the best way to win the new Emma's trust.

It would not be as a suitor for her hand. Though this Emma already smiled more than the one he knew—or thought he knew—it could backfire in too many ways. If he did win her heart in this world, he would still be unable to admit their past.

He would have to lie.

And she would not forgive him in the end, the betrayal of her heart too deep.

No, he could not—would not—be another Neal, leaving her broken and in pieces.

A friendship would be the only course, even though it remained risky, her trust a fragile thing.

The New York Killian Jones would have to be another mask, a role to play much like his Captain one. Instead of hiding his lack of knowledge of this world, he had to show it, all of it. The same voice warning him of speaking the truth also told him playing up his innocence of this world's creations was vital to remaining her roommate.

And he had to stay with her at all costs, for reasons he could not recall, his own feelings irrelevant.

_It just might bloody well kill me._

Even now, he fought the urge to reach for her, craving the heat of her skin. He closed his eyes, struggling to find the man he must portray—the man who had just met her—versus the man who already loved her.

When he opened them, her eyes met his again. He licked his lips, unable to stop the habit, helpless to look away from the curiosity swirling in her depths.

_So bloody beautiful._

"Do you even know what a video game is?" Henry's disbelief mingled with abject horror, the implication clear that Killian somehow missed something brilliant.

The boy's words nudged his new persona, allowing him to shift his eyes from Emma's to her son's. "I'm certain, should your mother allow it, you will enlighten me about these video games."

A small smile formed at the corners of her mouth. "We have a lot of shopping to do before that happens." At his inquisitive look she gave him a small shrug. "A fire destroyed everything that wasn't in this car. Including Henry's Xbox. Luckily I had really good insurance."

_A fire? That seems a rather… convenient tale._

_Yes, a fire, Captain. It explains her lack of possessions._

He cursed under his breath; the Evil Queen needed to get out of his head.

"What did you say?" Henry asked, leaning in from the back seat.

"I was merely wondering what this 'exbox' is that you speak of."

The boy jabbered on, touting the glorious wonders of something called "Diablo" and using "connect" to dance.

The more the boy spoke, the less he understood.

_Good. Use it._

Killian played up his confusion, often eliciting laughs from the boy.

But the moments Killian inhaled—like a dying man for air—contained soft, warm smiles directed his way. Smiles that Emma—the one he knew—rarely bestowed on anyone, much less the infamous Captain Hook.

_That man doesn't exist here. Can't exist here. He is a story, nothing more._

She demonstrated more warmth towards him as a stranger than she had in the aftermath of their night together.

Was it the spell forcing her walls to crumble? Had the curse and memory loss truly altered her?

Or was that morning aboard the _Jolly Roger_ the aberration, a time for her to come to terms with her feelings, and he simply could not remember her demanding nightly repeats?

_Damn. This could drive a man insane._

He buried his questions—their past had no place with the Emma sitting next to him, not yet—and focused on being the most unthreatening, polite, and video game clueless gentleman possible.

A surprisingly easy task, marred only by the constant tightening of his fist as he dug his nails into his palm in warning every time he fought the urge to touch her.

_Bloody hell._

* * *

**_As always, many thanks to my awesome beta, Arandil._**

**_Review?_**


	3. Chapter 2: Ground Rules

**Chapter 2: Ground Rules**

"We're home, kid."

Emma tossed her keys on the kitchen counter, admiring the beautiful granite and cupboards, her eyes taking in the furnishings included the lease, making sure they matched the images advertised.

Large wooden kitchen table. The red couch. The tan couch. The bedrooms would be empty—she'd have to shop tomorrow—but the main room felt just right.

Even with the giant manacles hanging on the wall—not your normal decoration, but she rather liked it.

_Nothing seems amiss._

"Wow, check out the view!" Henry's excitement brought a smile to her face as he peered out the living room windows before flinging himself onto one couch, his energy restored after a nap in the car. "Awesome!"

_This place is perfect._

She waited for warmth to surround her, the sense of being home.

Instead exhaustion threatened to take over, the result of her compulsive need to arrive in Manhattan quickly and therefore stop as little as possible.

_Normally I'm not so gung-ho. I know better than to drive when tired._

_But I had to get here._

_Thank goodness for the extreme saturation of Starbucks locations and mainlining Venti black coffees._

It wasn't until she heard footsteps behind her, the telltale sound of leather crinkling, that the anticipated heat flooded her body.

_Perhaps you shouldn't have spent the last seven hours sneaking glances at him over the rim of your coffee…_

"What do you think, Swan?"

For a moment she thought he could read her mind.

"Is it the home you've always dreamed of, love?"

She fought the urge to correct him—again—the endearment far too intimate.

_It's just how he talks, remember? He doesn't actually "love" you; that would be absurd. It's not his fault the word rolls off his tongue like warm chocolate syrup coating your skin, just begging—_

_Dammit!_

Her cheeks flamed.

_What the hell is wrong with me?_

He closed the space between them. "Are you alright? You look a bit flushed."

_He isn't hitting on you, he's just being polite. Get over it._

"I'm fine." She took a deep breath before turning to face him, steeling herself and attempting to hide his effect on her. "This is exactly what I've always wanted." She smiled, careful to remain focused on his eyes and not on the large expanse of bared chest his plunging neckline revealed. "And what do you think, Jones?"

He licked his lips and looked away, scanning the apartment before bringing his eyes back to meet hers. His mouth formed a small smile and her stomach executed a little flip. "There is no place I'd rather be."

_Truth._

She caught a hint of…something… in his eyes and wondered if he meant the apartment or her.

Then the look vanished; he was back to the perfectly polite gentleman.

She scoffed inwardly, chalking it up to a ridiculous wistful fantasy born from exhaustion and far too much time spent staring at him.

"Mom, I'm starving. I promised Killian we'd get pizza. Please?"

She smiled, remembering the boys' earlier conversation, the early dinner of McDonald's—which Killian barely touched—and her stomach rumbled. "Sure, kid." She turned to Killian. "I don't suppose you like pepperoni?"

He blinked, giving her a confused look. "And what, pray tell, is pepperoni?"

She shook her head. _Who hadn't heard of pepperoni? _"It's a topping. It goes…. on top of a pizza. Hence the name. You don't have to get pepperoni, you can get whatever food you want. Mushrooms. Pineapple. Anchovies. Sausage. Bell peppers. Any of those sound good?

_Why am I babbling?_

He eyed her warily. "This is not like the MacDonald's food from earlier, is it?"

Emma laughed. "McDonald's and New York pizza aren't even in the same realm of food. Trust me."

He gave her another little bow. "Then I shall yield to your judgment and dine on whichever toppings you prefer."

_God, he was so… old fashioned? Adorable?_

_Yeah, if adorable also makes you think about slowly stripping off his leather._

_Dammit!_

She quickly buried the thought.

_Pizza. Food. Focus._

The copious amounts of caffeine consumed suddenly kicked in and Emma thought she'd jump out of her skin.

_I need to walk or I'll never sleep tonight._

_Sleep on what? We don't have beds or blankets._

"Ok guys, let's walk and get some supplies for the apartment, then I'll call and order for delivery."

"Okay." Henry bounded off the couch and joined them in the kitchen.

"Ready for your first taste of New York City, Jones?"

Killian gave her a little bow. "As you wish."

She ignored the renewed heat at his words—_so familiar_—the task much easier thanks to his obvious lie.

_Never saw a movie, huh buddy? Yet you can quote The Princess Bride?_

_I knew he was too good to be real._

_He's just like all the rest._

_Focus. Focus. Focus._

_Food. Shopping. Henry to bed. Deal with Jones._

It wouldn't be until much later, she'd realize her lie detector had never gone off and he had, in fact, been telling the truth.

* * *

_I haven't lived with the lass for a single night and I've already wronged her._

Killian replayed the events of the evening, trying to figure out where he'd erred and Emma's attitude had transformed from open and warm into closed and frigid.

Oh, she was polite—he sensed more for the boy's sake than his own—but the pervading chill resembled the moment he'd been tied to a tree and she'd turned to leave him to die at the hands of ogres.

_Bloody hell._

Everything had been fine when they'd gotten their keys from someone of importance at the building. Killian's brief panic at having identification or funds to pay for the place were soothed—oddly—by The Evil Queen.

_Relax, pirate. You both will be quite comfortable for some time. Just let your mind go blank and you'll know what to say._

And he had—the key exchange occurred without incident.

He'd detected no animosity from Emma then, only exhaustion and anxiety.

Their conversation at the apartment mostly revolved around…pizza—surely not the cause.

And for a second, he'd sworn from her heated look she remembered their night in his quarters.

_Purely wishful thinking._

They left the apartment and it all changed.

She ensured Henry walked between them and avoided his gaze, her words clipped when addressing him.

They'd gone to a shop of some sort a few blocks from where they lived.

She shoved packages of blankets into his arms with a frosty smile. "Sure you can handle it, Jones?"

As though she hoped—what?—he'd drop them? Say no?

She ordered pizza using a small, hand-held device, hesitating with her words when she looked at him, much like someone attempting to execute a nefarious plot.

A glance at her son and she shook her head, continuing their order.

Killian couldn't tell if she'd decided to poison him or take pity on him for Henry's sake.

The new Emma wasn't nearly as easy to read as the one he'd met in the Enchanted Forest.

_Damn magic._.

He narrowed down the change in her demeanor to around the time they'd left the apartment, but for the life of him, could not figure out what had triggered the change.

They reached their apartment—the realization it was his and Swan's forcing his heart to beat a little faster—and he unloaded the items, his arms aching a bit from carrying the packages. He refused to acknowledge the discomfort—if he could deal with losing a hand, he could bloody well carry Swan's things.

Then a buzzer sounded, startling him, and he watched Emma walk to a speaker, pushing a button and evidently allowing someone into the building.

A man with two boxes arrived at their door and suddenly all he could do was focus on the delicious smells wafting from the pizza Henry had gone on about.

Killian could not remember the last time he'd eaten more than a bite, the earlier fare almost making him long for the repulsive hardtack on his ship.

_Now if only Swan did not use pizza as a form of vengeance with her choice of toppings…_

The messy concoction didn't look that appetizing and he considered declining.

Then a small moan of appreciation escaped Emma's lips when she took a bite, and Killian's body reacted against his will, hardening as flashes of their night together flooded his brain.

_Oh for the love of…_

He swore he heard the Evil Queen laughing.

He bit his lip, fighting back a curse, and wondered if Emma tormented him as a form of retribution.

Then her boy sighed in happiness as he attacked his slice and Killian decided this, at least, was genuine.

He carefully picked up a slice, mimicking the movements of Swan and her son, and took a tentative taste.

The flavors exploded in his mouth and he didn't hesitate to take a much bigger bite. He closed his eyes, a groan escaping his throat as he savored the food.

He swallowed, opening his eyes and ready to eat more, only to find both Swan and her boy grinning at him. He gave them a sheepish grin in return. "Damn, that's good."

"I knew you'd love pizza, Killian," Henry said, before shoving a giant portion into his mouth.

His eyes met Emma's, actual joy flickering in her eyes—her earlier mood miraculously vanished. He licked his lips and nodded at the slice. "Bloody brilliant, Swan. Compliments to your choice of toppings, whatever they are."

It reminded him of the brief moment in Neverland, sitting at her side, sharing a coconut with her in companionable silence.

Only this time her lad was safe and the food much tastier.

_And she doesn't remember me._

He watched her tongue lick sauce from the corner of her lips and struggled to hide what such a simple action did to him.

Damn, he wanted her. Her laugh, her smile, the heat of her skin against his.

All of her.

_Remember, you're attempting to just be mates. Flirting with her when you have to hide the truth can never end well._

_Oh bloody…_

He took another slice—his first already gone—and focused on the delicious new tastes, thankful any of his sighs of appreciation or moans of happiness—like when Swan swirled her tongue around her thumb to clean it off—could be blamed on the pizza.

_Surely it will get easier—pretending. It's has yet to be a full day._

_Or you'll muck it up. You need to make her remember._

Her laugh traveled to him—something the boy said no doubt—and she caught his gaze, sharing the joy of moment with him. He responded instinctively with one of his own.

Killian imagined millions of interactions much like this, compiled over the days of living with her.

Yet somehow, holding back, trying to be her friend and nothing more.

_Aye…I'll have to find a way…before I do something…incredibly…stupid._

* * *

Emma helped Henry arrange some newly purchased blankets into a makeshift bed in his empty room, the only light coming from the faint glow of the city and the moon shining through his window.

_Need to buy a lamp… a bed… some sheets…_

"What do you think of Killian, mom?"

Emma couldn't help smiling at his conspiratorial whisper, but thanked the darkness for hiding the blush forming at his seemingly innocent question. "I think he really likes pizza. It was a great idea you had." _Watching him eat_… Killian might be a liar, but his surprise at enjoying his first taste of pizza—it had been impossible to stay angry. And witnessing how he savored every morsel with pure rapture… _God, what else would he savor like that?_ She swallowed, trying to clear the image from her head, and rolled one blanket into a pseudo-pillow. "What do you think of him?"

"It's weird. It's like he's from another planet or something but he somehow fits with us."

"I liked the good thing we had going… just the two of us. The dynamic duo." She nudged her son playfully.

He laughed. "Change can be good. I mean, we moved to New York for a fresh start right?"

"Yeah, we did." Though honestly, she had no idea _why_ moving here had been important—just that it had.

"I can't wait to show him Diablo. I bet he'll want to be a demon hunter. Or maybe the crusader!"

Emma ruffled his hair. "We have to buy a new Xbox first. And towels. And dishes. More clothes. You know, the basics?"

"Yeah yeah, I know." He gave her a hug. "It's gonna be okay, Mom."

She kissed the top of Henry's head, marveling at how much she loved him. "Get some sleep, kid. It's late and we have a lot to do before you start school next Monday." She walked away, going to close the door behind her.

"Mom?"

"Yeah?"

"Go easy on him. He's just looking for a home."

She sighed and closed the door.

The last thing she could do was "go easy" on her roommate. If sharing an apartment with him was going to work, they needed ground rules.

_Before I do something really stupid._

* * *

Killian stared out the huge windows of the main room—the view surprisingly dark. The stars hid from him and even the moon appeared dull.

_You'll get used to it._

_Eventually._

"We need to talk." Emma's voice was quiet but firm as she approached behind him.

_Bloody hell._

He bit his tongue, holding back the same retort he'd spoken in Neverland, certain this Emma would be even less amused.

_Don't screw this up, pirate._

Because his own thoughts weren't enough...

He turned from the window, plastering what he hoped was an innocent smile on his face. "Aye, that we do." He motioned to the couch behind him. "Shall we sit?"

She eyed him warily, as if she'd expected resistance to her request. "Sure."

He sat down, purposefully placing himself in the middle; even if he could not touch her, he craved having her close. Her eyes flickered to the other couch for a moment, as if considering another option, before she sighed and sank next to him, her body rigid like a spring wound too tight.

For the first time that day, the atmosphere reeked of awkward tension.

_Oh, bloody…_

_That won't do._

Killian leaned into the pillows behind him, forcing himself to relax even has he fought the urge to brush a lock of her hair over her shoulder, casually draping his left arm along the back. His right reached into his pocket, pulling out his rum bottle. He popped the lid off and offered it to her. "Rum?"

To his surprise the tension immediately left her body. "Oh thank God." She practically snatched the bottle from him, tilting it back and taking a long swig, followed by another.

_How very telling._

"Rough day, lass?"

"You have no—" she paused, looking him over. "Yeah. You could say that." She tossed it back again, her gulp rather loud, before giving him a guilty look. "I might have had a bit too much coffee today. Sorry." She handed the bottle back to him and the warm brush of her fingers against his sent a shiver through his body.

_Bloody_…

He tried to hide it, immediately taking a pull from the rum bottle, letting the fire of it burn down his throat. "No worries, love." He winked at her. "My rum is your rum."

She swallowed, licking her lips as if gathering courage, yet she twisted and leaned into the couch, her shoulder nearly contacting his arm still resting along the back.

Killian struggled to maintain his nonchalant appearance.

"Why did you lie earlier?"

He ran through their earlier conversations, unable to find a direct lie. He'd been careful—the damn buzzing in his head quite insistent—to only speak the truth, evading or redirecting a question when he could not answer.

His expression must have shown his confusion because she continued. "You've obviously seen a movie before, Jones. You quoted one of the most well-known lines from _The Princess Bride_."

He made a mental note to ask Henry about the movie at first opportunity. "I have no memory of ever seeing a so-called "movie", much less the one you're speaking of. Whatever words I used that mimicked this movie, are pure coincidence, I assure you." He gave her a little nod. "You strike me as someone who can detect when a person lies. I'm telling you the truth."

Her eyes bored into his and she searched his gaze—her superpower at full force.

He knew the moment she believed him as more tension left her body, her eyes a bit dazed. "How could you know that?

"You're something of an open book."

She studied him again, trying to detect a lie. "Prove it."

_Careful._

"Try something new, darling. It's called trust." He watched her for signs of recognition but her walls remained firmly in place.

"Are you used to people trusting you?"

Killian thought about it, and realized no one, other than the woman before him, had fully trusted him in a very long time. And the old Emma would have denied it to her last breath.

He bit his lip, giving a self-deprecating smile. "Actually, no. You have to be part of something to encourage trust." An odd ripple ran through his mind with his words, tingling with a sense of déjà vu.

Her demeanor cracked, vulnerability seeping out. "Or you can be alone and never get hurt."

He nodded again. "Aye."

Another ripple washed over him, much like a wave slamming into his thoughts.

_What the—_

_Am I remembering something?_

Silence wrapped around them—this time warm and soothing. Their gazes remained locked, each sharing a piece of themselves normally hidden away. He could count on one hand the times the other Emma had allowed him to really see her.

_Perhaps a part of her remembers…_

It ended in a blink—the moment gone too quickly—but it gave him hope.

She sighed. "So, this is new for me and I think if this roommate thing is going to work, we need ground rules."

_Interesting_…

He sipped from the bottle again, curious to see what she had in mind. "Seeing as we possess equal shares of this domicile, it is only right to set the proper expectations."

_She has no idea how much this exchange will reveal._

Her jaw dropped—he'd obviously surprised her—and she nodded. "Exactly." She relaxed deeper into the couch, pushing the pillow behind her shoulder into his arm.

_Who needs this many pillows, anyway?_

"Name your terms, love, and I shall name mine." The words came out more intimate than intended and he schooled his face to hide the heat behind his words.

"You can't bring women home," she said, her words blurting out. Her cheeks flushed again and this time he couldn't stop the swirl of hope from growing. "I won't have Henry exposed to that."

_Ah, so she planned to blame the boy for this rule._

He raised an eyebrow. "And if he is otherwise occupied at another location? Does the rule still stand?"

She glared at him and it almost felt like the old Swan. "Kids are unpredictable, schedules change. It's safer to just assume he's always home."

"Am I allowed to bring anyone here at all, or are you only worried about those intended to share a... _nightcap_?"

Her tongue traced her lips and he wondered again if a part of her remembered…

"I'm careful about who comes into contact with my son. As long as I can meet any of your friends before they meet Henry, I don't see why it wouldn't be alright. I just…he just…" Her cheeks reddened further. "No nightcaps, okay? I'd like to avoid that parenting discussion for a few more years."

He nodded with a smile. "I had no intentions of doing so, darling, but it's always nice to know we're in agreement."

Her mouth gaped again before she quickly closed it. He saw her mental shake, the reforming of her mask, and when her eyes met his again she was back in control. "Your turn."

He played with the rum bottle, eyes dropping from hers, trying to make his voice casual as he spoke. "It only seems good form that the same rule applies to you, love." He had to force his gaze back to hers, afraid of what he might see.

This time the surprise was his, the smile spreading across her face far too knowing as she spoke. "I had no intentions of ever bringing anyone back for a _nightcap_—Henry, remember?—but it's always nice to know we're in agreement."

_Bloody brilliant minx._ He walked right into that one.

He gave her a little bow. "Well played, Swan. I believe it's your turn."

This time she broke eye contact. "I don't date roommates."

"Date?" The word was unfamiliar.

"Yeah, date. You know," she paused as if searching for words, "_date_?"

"I'm afraid not, darling."

He could've sworn he heard her mutter _"I need to invest in a dictionary" _before her eyes lit up. "Courting! You know courting, right?"

He nodded at her. "Aye."

"Courting is a lot like dating. There's no courting between roommates."

Killian almost laughed in relief, her goals so in line with his current plan.

Of course he wished to curse as well, for if he'd sworn not to pursue her and she did the same for him…

_It will make it damn difficult to win her heart… ever._

_And if I have to witness her "date" another…_

_Oh, bloody hell._

"Is that a common problem for you, love?"

She shrugged, but her expression grew guarded.

_I struck a nerve._

She crossed her arms, rubbing them as if cold. "When you live with someone, things can seem… more intimate. One person might read too much into to it… It can snowball out of control and suddenly one person is hurt and rejected. Then living together is just awkward and painful. The rule keeps that from happening."

Somehow he doubted any rule could've prevented him from falling for her.

As a pirate, he preferred breaking rules instead of following them; they were a challenge to overcome. However, this rule could be most useful…

"I'll concede such a rule could eliminate many complications and seems sound, if you agree to my caveat."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "And what would that be?"

"I would very much like us to be mates—friends as you call it. However, it would require you to spend some time—completely platonic of course—in my presence."

He'd survived Neverland—twice. Surely he could survive a friendship with Emma until she remembered.

Even if he had to fight a constant battle to hide his love for her.

_I've done it before._

She rolled her eyes. "We share an apartment. We'll see each other plenty."

"Yes, but I imagine your boy will also be around much of that time." His grip tightened on the rum bottle, fighting the urge to touch her, the move exactly the wrong one to pair with his words. "I want time alone with you, like this, when we can…talk. Get to know one another."

The alternative—living with her but having her remain a stranger—would be far worse.

He'd take as much as he could without crossing a line, so if—_when_—Emma's memories returned he'd still have a shot.

He caught a flicker of fear in her eyes and wondered if he'd pushed too hard, too soon. Her superpower face had returned, desperate to catch him in lie and push him away.

_It won't work, darling. I meant every damn word._

She reached the same conclusion because a tentative smile formed and she acquiesced, giving a nod. "Okay." She cleared her throat, obviously ready to shove their shared moment into the past. "Next term—and this is non-negotiable—you must never, ever, leave the toilet seat up."

_Oh bloody hell._

_What was a toilet?_

* * *

**_A/N: I have been amazed by the response to this. Only two chapters posted and over 130 follows! I've also loved hearing what you think about the AU divergence from the show, because this is the first time I've purposefully written a true alternate universe after it is has happened (compared to a new episode rendering something AU)._**

**_I've always been annoyed how the writers never addressed why those who did not come with the original curse had to stay, so this idea has been in my head for a while. Having it follow my "Leaving Neverland" fic gives Hook added incentive to see if Regina really knows all the rules and to challenge them._**

**_Please be patient with updates (or lack thereof) over the next two weeks. I'll be on vacation and (unless the weather is horrible) will not likely have time to write. Plus I'm a mother of two and summer time means less free time, not more. _**

**_As always, much love to Arandil, my fabulous beta, who makes my writing better._**

**_Review? What are you dying to see Killian experience? Do you have questions about the curse? Something you really love? Really hate? Really love to hate? I welcome all feedback, but detailed reviews fuel the muse…_**


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